Puppy Alert!!!




                        Sprawled out on the cool kitchen tiles with the ceiling fan creating a heavenly breeze on my tummy sleep eludes me. My doggie blog is fast approaching, and I still haven’t decided on a topic. I got up to get a drink, patrolled the house, and then stationed myself between the oscillating floor fan and the overhead.

Tom, my favorite family member let me out while he fed and watered my equine charges. The horses get their breakfast around seven every morning. On our way back in Tom grumbled, “It’s going to be a hot one today, Bud. The thermometer is already 85°! You are going to have to stay at home today.” I usually ride with him when he runs to the feed store, or to get hay. Bank runs are fun too! I get doggie treats at both places. Though I love to ride in the truck with my face hanging out the window sucking in the wind, it’s really uncomfortable when we have to stop on hot summer days,


That is when it came to me! The subject for my first blog would be the heat wave from a dog’s point of view.  Most dogs want to be with their human family, and we hate the home alone thing. I would whine, beg, and look pathetic hoping to weaken their resolve to leave me behind. My last ditch effort is to run to the big window in the living room that faces the drive to show my most dejected and heartbroken face.

Now that I am older, I know that staying at home in the heat is my humans way of protecting me, but I still don’t like it. One of my doggie friends, Maxine, almost died from heatstroke while waiting in a car for her owner to finish grocery shopping. Maxine, like me, loved to ride in the car.  Puppy Alert! Leave us at home, if you really love us.


            Lucky me, I am a country dog, Most of the time my paws tread on cushy grass, or the soft sand in the horse work arena. I love to run with the horses when they are working. If I get overheated, I take a dip in the river. Where I used to live my paws got fried on the sidewalks on the way to the field at the end of our street were I was allowed to run. Puppy Alert! When you can fry an egg on the concrete or asphalt let us walk on the grass, whenever you can.


Mom chose a puppy picture of me for this blog.  I used to visit the farm when I was little, and came to live here when I was two. My coat is long, and I have a thick undercoat that is great insulation. It protects me from the cold of winter, but also from the hot summer sun. My thick undercoat also protects me from, mosquitoes, dear flies, and more! I am half Golden Retriever and half German Shepard; I am a pretty hairy guy.  My friend Beau is a Golden, and he can’t spend much time outside. He was body clipped for the summer, and if he were in the sun long he would get sunburned. Puppy Alert! If you use clippers to shorten a long coat, don’t leave your doggie friend in the sun longer that it takes to water the tires and fertilize a spot in the lawn!


            Wow! Mom just put some ice cubes in my water bowl. I think I’ll go have a cool drink, and then stakeout a good spot in front of a fan, where I can keep an eye on things.


Stay safe everyone, and drink lots of water. This heat can’t last forever. Stop by and visit with me next month.

Bye for now!



No Matter If Hoof, Paw, or Foot; We All Deserve A Chance At Wuv!

Woof! Woof! Howdy folks, I am Mr MaGoo; co-author of Real Dogs Don’t Whisper, actually the book was all my idea.  I let Mom think it was; our parents we have to throw them a bone every now and then.  Mom shared with me that I would be a pawing up a few lines here; at first I thought she lost her kibble, what on Earth would I paw about on a site that has creatures, um, what are they called?  Oh yeah, horses.  What the heck are these guys called horses?

First, Carla Mae and I had to do canine research and find out what a horse was.  Carla and I got in the car, Mom was busy being a crazy lady, and I drove us all over CA to find a horse.  Whew! It wasn’t as easy as I first thought; we were in a very low car, couldn’t see out the windows.

One day, we just had to get out and stretch our legs and tails, lo and behold, what did we stumble across?  A horse!  Now folks, this horse; learned later it was a pony, did not sound like us; did not smell like us; and it certainly didn’t go, “woof woof”.

Needless to say, when I heard the lovely furiend try to talk to Carla and I in a language that sounded like “neigh, neigh, neigh”; I had to really do some tail thumpin’ thinking, what would I paw up about?

Then, I knew! Wuv!  No matter if hoof, paw, foot, or fin; don’t we all want and need wuv?  In my book, I bark about how Betty Boop survived much longer than Doc thought because she had Mom’s and my wuv.  Boopie Bear (I used to call her that) was given a second chance in life all due to Mom’s wuv.  My other sister, Buffy, same thing; now she had other problems, she overcame them because of wuv.  Oh my! Let me tell you about Carla Mae, she was very angry because she wasn’t wuved; after a short time with me, I taught her about wuv.

I did some digging in Mom’s yards; she had horses when she was just a young pup.  She had two; one was abused, her name was Honey.  From what I dug up, Honey was just that, sweet as honey.  Mom and her sister gave Honey lots of wuv and Honey wuved them back.  Mom and her sister had to go off to college and you know what they did?  They gave Honey to a family that had a little boy with cerebral palsy.  Wow!  Talk about keepin’ the wuv going and helping out a family in need.  Furiends, not only did Mom help Honey receive more wuv, she gave a family a chance at happiness with wuv too.  (ok, my eyes are beginning to leak a little).

Mom’s other horse, Dandy Boy, had a medical condition; something to do with his hoofs.  One sec, I need to go and Goo-gle it; oh yeah, navicular disease.  From Mom’s trail here in the yard, she had a tuff decision to make; she elected to give Dandy Boy the care he needed to keep him pain free.  Dandy Boy wuved her for this; he became her BFF in high school.

Wuv is a very pa-werful thing; while we may not be able to actually hold it, we do hold it in our heart.  Hmm, maybe Doc should try to bottle wuv, whacha think?  The humans have a saying that goes like this: “If you judge people, you have no time to love them.”  If Mom judged Honey based on her appearance, she would have missed out a beautiful horse.  If Mom judged Dandy Boy about his medical condition, she would have missed out on a BFF.  If Mom had judged Betty Boop, she would have missed out on a miracle.

Furiends, are you judging and missing out God’s greatest gift, wuv?  Are you judging how we look and run away?  Or, are you looking at a situation, thinking; “all is needed is a treat called wuv”?

Yep, this is life lesson that my sisters taught Mom; “Love Conquers All”.

Furiends, thank you for having me play in your yard.  My gate is always open, come on over and play in my yard too.  www.realdogsdontwhisper.com

Off to spread and share wuv; wouldn’t cha join me?








Lots of wuv

Mr MaGoo

Kelly Preston and the irresistable Mr MaGoo guest blog!

“Mr MaGoo, co-author of Real Dogs Don’t Whisper, is certainly living up to his claim that he is “Larger Than Life”; both him and his owner and co-author, Kelly Preston, will be our guest blogger (author) June 25th. Mr MaGoo loves to blog about pets and children, and combined with his wisdom and humor, this will be a blog not to be missed.  Of course, Kelly will be rolling her eyes and having to keep him on task.”

An Early morning visit from a Sprit Horse!


Characters in a story can, and often do haunt an author’s sleep. A writing coach of mine once told me, “Keep a note book beside your bed, and one in your pocket. You never know when inspiration will strike.” I wish that I could tell you that I adhere to that, but I seldom do.

In the predawn hours of this morning Frosty paid me a visit. All of my Backyard Horse Tales are loosely based on the lives of special horses that have graced my life. Occasionally, Frosty would get out of his stall and visit me at strange hours. You would think that by now I would be used to his visits. However, Frosty passed on to horse heaven over twenty-one years ago.

The following is the dream and conversation as best as I can recall it. In my stories the horses narrate the events in their lives, but they never talk to people.


I could feel someone in the darkness moving closer, and then the black of night faded to show the shadowy form of a horse. I recognized him immediately.

            “Frosty, what are you doing here?” 

            His form began to solidify. He stood before me—at the foot of my bed—not the aged horse that had passed on, but my beautiful Appaloosa in his prime. Then, he spoke to me!

            “Howdy Jack. I heard you call me, so I stopped by to see if I could help.”


            It is true that I have been thinking about him a lot lately while working on his tale. I wondered if I had, indeed, called out to him during my restless night. Okay, I might as well take advantage of this opportunity to speak with him, “Do you know about the book that I am working on that includes you?”


            “Oh yeah, I know.  Sox, thinks it is funny that you didn’t have much trouble with his story, and Love is making me crazy! She wants my book out of the way, so you can finish her memoirs.”


            “Your tale is more complicated, and took a lot of research. Then it was a challenge weaving the historical facts into a horse’s point of view. Most of it is complete and I am working with an editor to make sure the story flows, and is interesting for our young readers.” 


            “You know, Jack, I wasn’t so sure about the whole reincarnation theory at first. Now that you have started down that path you need to finish.”


            “I know. I have talked to Kellie and Pat about the ending. I discussed it at length with the Illustrator, about the best way to handle the whole issue that isn’t too dark for our youngest readers.”


            “Well, if my opinion carries any weight, I agree with Kellie. Just do it! It is the only way that I can exist in my part of the story, but I still think that the story is a little spooky. On the other hoof, I like sharing a bit of Appaloosa history with people. It’s time for me to go.”

            “Frosty, say hello to the others for me.”

             “I will. Bye Jack.”

             Poof! He just faded away, and I am frantically writing before the dream vanishes. Frosty’s visit gave me the answer for how to approach the climax of his story. I sure hope he likes the results. It is kind of hard to tell about Frosty he had always been such a stoic individual. Nothing much ever bothered him. The one exception to his bravery had been his dread of crossing rivers. It was his out of character fear of water that gave me the idea for Backyard Horse Tales 2; “Frosty and the Nightstalker.”

Illustration by Sandy Shipley

Surviving the Alarm Clock and a Stressed Out Canine!

By Jackie Anton

            Mid April showers have the windshield wipers going double time. Tom, my husband, was booked on an early flight to Orlando, and I had just dropped him off at the Akron-Canton Airport.  Now, I am stuck in rush hour traffic, doing the orange barrel polka around Akron. Traffic is crawling, so there is plenty of time for me to worry about filling in the gaps that his absence will leave for the next two weeks.

By the time I pull in the drive at home, I have decided that I can handle this extra load for two weeks. Before I am able to exit the truck, impatient stomping and whinnies echo from the barn. It is past time to turn the horses out, and they are making sure that I don’t forget about them.

After turning my equine charges out and making sure that the water trough is full, I fill the cat’s water bowl and head to the house.

Opening the back door makes my heart thump wildly.  Ninety pounds of hairy canine exuberance almost sits me on my posterior. Buddy makes a beeline to the truck searching for his beloved master. He sulks for the remainder of the day. He doesn’t chase the horses as usual, but sticks close to me while I clean the stalls.  Every once in a while he gives me a woeful doggy look, as if asking what I had done with Tom?

One day down, thirteen to go.  That is if all went as planned and our daughter-in-law delivered our second grandchild on schedule. Grandpa was there to drive Wilma to work. Our son was concerned about her driving the forty-five minutes each way to the University of Central Florida. He was on a project assignment, for Florida University, working in the opposite end of the State. Grandpa to the rescue! He would be driving her to and from work, picking up Connor, our first grandchild, from daycare and generally helping out.

I set the clock for five am.  Maybe, if I got an early enough start, I would be able to get everything done. Take a deep breath, think positive, I coached myself, “ Maybe you will catch a spectacular sunrise?”  Not a morning person, habitually I read or work on ads late at night.  Quietness of those hours, except for occasional snoring, croaking frogs, and chirping of crickets, allow me to concentrate much better. At least a decade has gone by since I have had to set an alarm clock.

Five in the morning, sure that a calamity had struck, I wake with a start. My heart rate spiking, I keep slapping at the infernal clock radio. Not able to find the proper button, out of frustration, I reach down and pull the electric plug. Great! Now, I am going to have to reset it. Vaguely, a distant memory rises out of the morning fog that I used to, in self-defense, wake up before the alarm could scare the tar out of me.   Buddy was standing in the doorway cocking his head and looking at me like I was demented. Or, it could be that he was only trying to figure out the alien noise?  Once the alarm was quieted, he let out an indignant yawn followed by an elaborate stretching routine.

Oh! Lord it is only the fourth day! Panting, I stop to catch my breath, after lugging the third trashcan to the end of the drive.  Glancing around and admiring the budding trees, I notice how much the grass has grown. In resignation, I reschedule my plans for the day to mow the lawn. Mowing our six acres, and zigzagging around the abundant trees, takes a minimum of four hours, if you don’t forget to check the gas and then run out at least two hundred feet from the outbuilding that houses the tractor fuel.  This was shaping up to be a lousy day, and I was not enjoying the bright sunshine and mild weather. A U.S. Postal delivery was made while I was struggling with the lawn tractor.  Waving to our friendly Post Lady, I groaned, and then let out a string of very colorful words that I would not dare repeat in front of my grandchild. I had completely forgotten about the mail, it had gone unchecked since the day before he left. Our rural box was stuffed. One more thing, like mowing, filling the trucks and the fuel cans for the tractors, and taking out the trash, that I never bothered with, Tom always did that too!

Day five is off to a better start. Now, I am counting!  Feeling proud of myself for beating the alarm, I turn from disengaging it, and end up on the floor tangled up with a big furry dog that thinks I have invented a wonderful new game.  Since Buddy is Tom’s dog, more aptly he is Buddy’s person. Most of the time I play second fiddle, but with my husband away for several days Bud has decided to attach himself to me. He usually sleeps next to Tom, and I had not been expecting him to be right beside my bed when I woke.  I figure that the dog being insecure is doing his best to make sure that I didn’t disappear, also. He is the proverbial lost puppy.

Local weathermen are calling for rain showers over the next several days. So, I decide to reseed the front paddock, and take advantage of the promised warm spell. The projected rain will take care of watering it, not adding to my list of things that need to be done.  I sigh, knowing that this is the optimal time to tackle the project, and went in search of my work gloves.  It took me all day, more than twice the time that it usually took the two of us. Other than caring for the animals, I worked on that paddock from dawn until dark.

Well, I made it through. My heart is still beating, despite nearly jumping out of my throat whenever I over slept and the earsplitting alarm jarred me from a sound sleep. In addition I did not break my neck falling over an anxiety filled canine. However, those life alert commercials are looking better all the time, and I will keep them in mind if I ever have to repeat the past two weeks.

The above story was an assay that I did for an English Composition class April of 2010. I thought it was a good way to introduce our beloved Buddy. I am working on his story, and will include some of his exploits here.  Backyard Horse Tales readers met Buddy in Sox’s tale. Look for Buddy’s Blog on the 30th of each month.

Bella’s June 8, 2012 journal entry!

Hey Every one,

Here is the update I promised.

Anna returned home about a month ago, and she picked right back up where she left off last December mothering me, and keeping me from getting close to Doc. I tried to explain that Doc was an okay guy, but she wouldn’t pay any attention. I protested her overprotective attitude.

“Anna, I am not a small weanling anymore, and I am almost as tall as Doc. You don’t need to protect me from him.”      

“Don’t think that because you are a yearling now, Bella, that you know every thing.”

“I have been turned out with Doc for several months, and he never hurt me. He even ran and played with me.”

“Right, and that is why you have stitches above your left eye.”

I tried to explain to her that I had stuck my head under the bottom fence board, and caught a splinter when I pulled it back. The worst part of the experience was the vet putting a needle near my wound.

The whole area around my eye was numb and I couldn’t feel it. That worried me and I began to paw out of frustration. He was doing something to my face above my eye! Okay, I’d had enough of that. I tried to go back to my stall. Tom, my favorite human foster parent held the end of my lead rope and made me stand up in the aisle of the barn.

Confused about what was happening, I pawed more aggressively, and that was when the vet stuck a needle in my neck! What the heck was that about? There wasn’t any thing wrong with my neck. Okay, I was really feeling kind of fuzzy, and the barn floor was tilting. It was becoming difficult to stand up, and I barely made it to my stall before collapsing. I don’t know how long I snoozed, before I woke, and began looking for something to eat. There was not any grain in my feed bin and even my hay had been removed.

One positive out of the whole experience was the yummy apple tasting stuff that was put on my grain for about a week or so. Tom told me that it was an antibiotic. Whatever, it tasted good and I began to look forward to it.

Just about time for my stitches to be removed, Anna shows back up. Two weeks later she had a hormone spike and got really nasty with Doc. A short half-hearted kicking spree broke out between them. Guess who got kicked? Yep, yours truly, now I have a gash on my right hind cannon bone. Jackie, my human foster mom, is threatening to change my name from Bella to Scar!   I don’t think I like that name.

I sure hope this summer goes better than the spring.


Until next month,


“Angels at Sunset” author Tom Mach kicks off June’s Adult Book author interviews.

Award winning author shares his insights and other works.

Comments are welcome, and be sure to vote for your favorite interview.

Comments on http://bookreviewsbyjackie.com/ are drawn randomly for gifts from participating authors on tour.

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